On Fire
by Coopereid
Summary: Takes places after the events in The Fisher King part 2. Reid gets home from dropping his mother off in Vegas, in pain from the aftermath of the bomb set off by Randall Garner. Morgan/Reid - co-written with my best friend.


**Author's Note:** Small little ficlet I wrote with my best friend a while back following the events of The Fisher King (part 2). We always wondered about the aftermath from Spencer catching fire from the bomb, and decided to write our own version of it with a Morgan/Reid twist. (I am very aware this is not my best writing, but it was a fun collaboration).

* * *

The front door being slammed shut was what woke Derek from his slumber on the couch: he collapsed there after dropping Spencer and his mother at the airport that evening. They had finished working the Fisher King case and everybody was exhausted. He had offered to fly with the two, but Spencer quickly told him that he needed the alone time with her, especially considering her fear of flying.

"Spencer?" he called out, looking toward the front door.

A quick "Yeah" was followed by a small grunt, and that's all Derek heard except for the footsteps that made their way down the hallway toward their bedroom.

He sat up on the couch, wiping his hand over his face, trying to wake up a bit more. He stood up and made his way down the hallway. He noticed the bathroom light was on, and the door was wide open. He also heard the sound of things being pushed around in the medicine cabinet.

"Where's the hydrocortisone cream, Derek?" Spencer mumbled as Derek made himself comfortable against the bathroom's door frame. Spencer was standing in front of the medicine cabinet, digging through with a scowl on his face. He didn't even bother to look at Derek.

"You could've called me from the airstrip, you know. I could've picked you up, or gone to the pharmacy for you to pick up some hydro-whatever cream."

"Hydro_cortisone_ cream," Spencer snapped, walking past Derek to their room.

Derek raised an eyebrow as he watched Spencer walk into the room, not even bothering to turn on the light. Shortly after there was a creaking of bed springs and a long, pained sigh.

"Pretty Boy?" Derek asked. When there was no response, he walked into the room and flipped the light switch on. Spencer was lying on the bed face down in nothing but his boxers. He smirked to himself before sitting down beside him. "Spencer?"

Spencer let out a pained moan before turning his head toward his boyfriend. "Derek, I _really_ don't want to talk right now."

"Then just tell me what's wrong-"

He was cut off by Spencer groaning. "You _know_ what's wrong."

"Do I?"

"At least you _should_."

Derek sighed. "Then give me a hint."

Spencer whimpered. "I'm in _pain_."

He smiled slightly as he realized exactly what was going on. "Oh, I understand now. You know what, Pretty Boy? This is what happens when you don't mention a bomb."

"Well, _Derek_, I wasn't planning on my ass catching fire and needing you to put it out."

"You've always had a hot ass, Spencer," Derek said, winking. He laughed softly when he saw the glare Spencer was giving him.

"You're not _helping_."

"If you'd just told me or Hotch about it, we could've avoided this whole situation."

Spencer whimpered, again, burying his head in his pillow. "Like _you_ always share every bit of information about an unsub?" When Derek didn't respond he scoffed. "Didn't think so."

Derek reached over, rubbing his back. "You could've gotten checked over by the EMTs."

"Oh, _that_ would be a pleasure to explain to somebody. 'Yeah, this guy had a bomb and I tried running, but my ass caught on fire-' DEREK MORGAN, stop laughing."

Derek bit down on his lip, trying to hide his smile. "Sorry, Pretty Boy. Do you need anything?"

"Find the Aloe Vera in the fridge," Spencer snapped, wincing slightly, "and some Tylenol."

Derek kissed the back of his head, getting up and walking to the kitchen. Once he got back, Spencer sat up on the bed, resisting the urge to whine at the pain. He popped the Tylenol in his mouth, quickly swallowing it, and took the Aloe Vera from him.

"I could always put that on for you," Derek suggested.

Spencer glared at him. "_Out_."

He put up his hands defensively. "Let me know when I can come back." He walked out to the living room, helping Clooney up on the couch. "Spencer didn't listen to me, and now he's hurting. Lesson for you, buddy. _Always_ listen to me."

"I heard that!" Spencer yelled from their bedroom. He walked out with a slight limp, putting the Aloe Vera back in the fridge and glaring at him.

"What's that for?"

"I won't be walking straight for a week. Garcia's going to think something's up – more than she already does."

"In my defense, you've _never_ walked straight," Derek said, winking at him.

Spencer gave him a look. "Get comfortable on that couch for the night." He walked toward the bedroom, whistling. "Here, Clooney! You can have his side of the bed tonight."

Derek smirked, shaking his head and lying back on the couch, tucking a hand behind his head. In no time whatsoever, he knew Spencer would be whining at him to join him, all of his comments forgotten.


End file.
